


Universal Language

by ghostwriting



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwriting/pseuds/ghostwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, John lies awake in bed and listens to Sherlock play his violin at two in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Universal Language

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ednigmas](http://ednigmas.tumblr.com/).

Sometimes, John lies awake in bed and listens to Sherlock play his violin at two in the morning.

The neighbours hate it, but John finds an odd attraction to Sherlock's erratic violin-playing habits.

People will agree that he is not a bad player. He just has no care for the volume of his playing, or the type of music he is playing, or whether or not it is an appropriate time to be playing anything at all.

But that is exactly what John loves about Sherlock and his violin.

John finds it difficult to understand Sherlock all the time, but his playing does a lot of the talking for him. Sherlock has feelings, emotions, and is as human as the guy next door. John can tell from the music he plays.

Sometimes the tunes are slow and melodious, other times, they are just flat out noisy. John appreciates them anyway.

He briefly mentions his favourite piece to Sherlock while on a case, and since then, he has heard different variations of that piece on alternate nights when Sherlock decides to play.

A month after, John wakes at three to the sound of Sherlock's violin. It is his favourite tune again, played in harmony to one of Sherlock's favourite personal compositions, judging from the number of times he has played the same piece on occasion.

He imagines Sherlock moving around the living room to the melody of the tune, delivering his emotions through the pieces. He wonders if Sherlock is thinking of him.

With his curiousity piqued, John decides to make his way down to the living room, careful to make as little noise as possible, only to find Sherlock waiting for him at the doorway by the time he makes it down.

"Did you not like it?" asks Sherlock.

John only manages a confused expression. It is far too early in the morning to be seeing things from Sherlock's point of view.

"The piece. My violin piece," says Sherlock, looking halfway between anxious and urgent.

"What?"

Sherlock makes an exasperated sound and collapses into the armchair.

"I knew I shouldn't have mixed them. They will never go together. Too different. What was I _thinking_?"

"Shh, Sherlock. There's no need to raise your voice. It's three in the morning. Calm down," says John as he takes his place on the armchair opposite and rubs his eyes. "My brain is not entirely active right now, so can you please repeat that at a more understandable and comprehensible pace? Thanks."

"Why did you come down today?" Sherlock demands.

"Because you were playing the violin at three?" John answers.

"Wrong. You came down because something was different, because you were obviously awake all the other times when I was playing at two to four and you didn't do anything until today," frowns Sherlock.

John raises his eyebrows.

"You knew I was awake?"

"Of course I knew you were awake!" he exclaims. "Your breathing was different! Any idiot would know that."

"You were listening to my breathing?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, don't look so surprised. You were listening to me play!"

John is halfway between amused and bewildered.

"Was I not supposed to?" he asks.

Sherlock looks at John.

"I didn't say that," he says.

John sighs. He knows exactly what is happening.

"I liked that piece. The piece you just played. I came down because I wanted to see you," admits John.

"You wanted to see me," repeats Sherlock, not quite getting where John is coming from.

"Yes," says John. "There's a reason why I enjoy hearing you play, but that's all you're getting."

John gets up and straightens his shirt. It feels good having a go at confusing Sherlock since it is usually the other way round.

"Goodnight," he says, and promptly walks out the door and up the stairs.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, John hears the sound of Sherlock's violin. He decides to make another attempt to move down to the living room.

* * *

John said that he liked the tune. He said that he enjoyed hearing him play, and was implying that he was happy to listen to his compositions at ungodly hours. So why did he decide to get out of bed to see him play the violin today?

The piece is a strange one because both tunes are melancholy and hurting, yet when placed together sound so beautifully hopeful, forming the perfect blend.

He hears John's footsteps again. This time, he pays no attention to him, and continues to play to the quiet streets of London below.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock completes the piece and turns around to find John resting against the frame of the door, arms folded and eyes closed.

Sherlock narrows his eyes as John, realising that the piece has ended, begins to stir. When their eyes meet, John sees Sherlock's mouth fall open a little. At the reaction, he smiles, because he knows that now, Sherlock understands.

"Were you thinking of me?" John asks quietly.

"Yes," Sherlock whispers, surprised not only by the question, but the look in John's eyes. Sherlock sees every emotion he has ever played on his violin reflected in his eyes and realises everything that he has failed to understand about his own feelings.

"Good. Because I was thinking about you too."


End file.
